|
Childhood Reminiscences — Clip One
Once, beside the Indian cabin, next the thistles,
where one June it fell upon chance, rare as it happened, a doe gave birth
to a fawn.
Childhood Reminiscences — Clip
Two
Little, labouring me, with blade
digging busily in the backyard sand, the bear sees. Curious, unafraid, he
shambles nearer and… Harold flees to the house. He shouts like Fleonce in
Macbeth! Ferile memory. How slow seems the teddy bear of death. By his
shouts my brother has made the bear gigantic and, in the kitchen, mother
becomes frantic. Immense and slavering grizzly; the hungry yearling black
bear cub has measly me plucked from his small-eye stare.
Childhood Reminiscences — Clip
Three
We found the paint beneath the
Simpson’s porch, carried the can to our house’s stucco. Our five-year
talented torch became the brush for the skimmed muck – oh it was glee we
painted with until our hands and hair, some of the wall were green as a
dragon myth… we were seen. Billy was sent home. I to my room as the long
afternoon dragged into half light out in the green gloom, alone, Billy was
hiding in the trees, groaning, “night.” Though he would rather have been
asleep he knew his father’s ire was cranking. He heard them calling, saw
the flashlights sweep, chose the darkness over spanking.
|
|